


Life on the Surface

by Firelight_and_Rain



Category: The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Modern AU, small town AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firelight_and_Rain/pseuds/Firelight_and_Rain
Summary: Drizzt would like to stop living in the same house as his parent, and Mooshie is conscripted to once again be the teacher of all things surface.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felixthecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felixthecat/gifts).



> This is. A very niche pairing. What the hell. Anyway, I insist that it logically follows from my standard modern AU somehow.  
> I am not blind and therefore I apologize if in any way I fucked up writing Mooshie, and please tell me what I did.  
> @ felixthecat, I know you said how I had a lot of backstory and such going on - I want to take this time to say that if anyone wants to play in this sandbox too, by all means, I’d be flattered. (Same goes for really any of my fanfic that doesn’t feature an OC and pretty-much-an-OC, i.e. the Watcher from PoE, etc.)

“I’d have sworn that finals were over,” Drizzt cracked the moment that DeBrouchee opened the door.

DeBrouchee gave out a dramatic groan. “This might surprise you, kid, but I don’t much enjoy grading piles and piles of papers by kids who don’t know a fir tree from power-line pole. Come on in. School’s out, forever.”

Drizzt followed him into the small, low house. One of DeBrouchee‘s nephews was staying with him; the house actually belonged to some relative of theirs; he was out hunting, probably, anyway he wasn’t there now. Drizzt was grateful that he didn’t have to meet him, whoever he was, because he didn’t relish the inevitable awkwardness of making nice with someone new. He was thawing out, but that was exercise enough of a set of sensibilities and skills that he was learning from the ground up. At the same time as he withdrew from those he might wish to befriend, he was constantly tempted to turn further and further inward to recrimination towards … the obvious suspects. So. DeBrouchee helped. Anyone he already knew, aside from the obvious suspects, helped, just by being around them.

“So, did Bruenor throw you out of the house, did Bruenor throw you out of the house in serious, or did you just want to talk?”

“I need some more advice.”

“Oh? Girl trouble? Boy trouble? I know that it might seem slow work, getting your feet under you, but you’ll get there - you’ve got your work, these people you’re rooming with seem like good people.”

“They are. No, it’s a Zak problem.”

Mooshie paused on his way to the kitchen and gave Drizzt a suspicious look. “What’s happened now? Has he moved to the Dale yet?”

“Yeah, we managed that, but. I don’t think it’s really going to work out.” Drizzt went through three cupboards before finding a kettle.

“Do you not want him here?” Mooshie asked, in a careful tone that Drizzt couldn’t really call anything but Socratic.

“No, I do, but …” Drizzt wasn’t lying, he just didn’t want to think about it too hard. “He really should be somewhere closer to a doctor who isn’t-”

“A glorified veterinarian?”

Drizzt sighed and shrugged. “You won’t get any argument from me.” His next sigh was a subaudible growl. “Not to mention, he’s never seen a dark elf before and hasn’t even treated any surface elves.”

“That … would be a problem, yes. But maybe Zak would be better off just being close to you?”

Drizzt smiled sadly. “Keep away from the stove for now, I’m trying to make us cocoa. And I’d like to think so, but.” He tailed off, and couldn’t say anything more for a long minute. Mooshie said nothing. Drizzt was unspeakably grateful for, and to, him. “I don’t think it’s best for him to live where I am.”

“Why not? You love him. You’re both safe. You have help supporting him.”

“But I’ve moved on ahead of him. I don’t - he means well, but I don’t think he knows what to do with that. I have my own life now, and he deserves to have his family back, but-”

“It’s hard enough to go ahead and grab hold of life for yourself after spending so long when you couldn’t see it without then having to coordinate with someone, anyone else,” Mooshie said, tone going from Socratic to understanding.

“Yes.” Drizzt drummed his fingers on the counter. “I feel wretchedly ungrateful.”

“Most children are. That’s part of having a parent. That’s not a bad thing.”

“So. What do I do now?”

“Tempt Zaknafien to another town, someplace close enough by that you two can keep in contact - and you should, family’s too precious not to, not that I think you need convincing, really - and he can have a sunnier retirement than the Dale offers.”

“Do you have anywhere in mind?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Moved out to my uncle’s place, which I remembered as quite cozy and pleasant. Turns out that most of my memories are from the springtime. Still, it’s a different sort of place. Might be just the thing.”

“I’ll bring it up.”

“If you need someone to play salesperson, call me up. If he’s half as stubborn as you, he’s going to need some convincing.”

The teapot started to whistle.

 

*

 

“So ye’re moving out?” Bruenor asked, staring suspiciously over his fork at Zaknafien.

“I never said that.”

“Drizzt has been looking at houses.”

“Well, maybe Drizzt is moving out.”

Bruenor scoffed. “Drizzt has a job, and me girl wouldn’t let him.”

Zaknafien unhunched slightly from his dinner and gave Catti the unnerving look he’d honed for her. Drizzt still had to regularly explain that it didn’t mean that he didn’t like her. “So maybe I am moving out. It of course makes sense; I have other relatives who might want to visit.”

He really didn’t. Unless one counted Esq. De’Aerthe, and Drizzt didn’t relish the thought of contemplating any suspicious regarding Jarlaxle and Zaknafien too deeply. Drizzt hoped that Zak had more reasons to really buy into his scheme than, maybe, that Zak thought that it would make Drizzt happy, or that that was what was normal.

Bruenor shrugged and looked at his food. “It’s not a problem. I can help - best not let family get stuck with shoddy work.”

Zaknafien looked at Bruenor. It could be called a stare from its intensity if not for its self-conscious brevity. “I guess Catti-brie and Bruenor will have someplace new to spend their time rather than being stuck here.”

Bruenor made a rude noise. “Sure, if’n ya want to keep up with their Netmovies or whatever.”

Zak grinned. “It might do them some good to get out and explore someday.”

“Dad, you nearly got frostbite last winter. Serious frostbite.”

Zak shrugged. “You live and you learn.”

 

*

 

Zak made a disparaging noise. “Do you know anyone who lives in an actual community?”

“Hey, I count Bruenor’s clan. And we may all be frozen half the time, but at least we can trust each other.”

“Tell that to Kemp. Oh, wait, you did.”

Drizzt figured that the less his dad dwelt on the existence of Governor Kemp, the safer they all were.

“It’s something good.”

Zak draped an arm over Drizzt’s shoulders and gave an affectionate squeeze. “You said that this guy was your teacher? In what?”

“Forestry.”

“Doesn’t seem like the forests here are so fierce, aside from the cold.” Winter on the surface really was something; who knew that water was so fickle, completely transforming at the whim of the ambient environment?

“Tell that to a grizzly. Or a yeti.” Drizzt extricated himself from his father’s embrace and knocked on the door to the long, low house in its nest of deciduous trees thickly clothed in summer. An owl hooted disconcertingly close. They didn’t wait long until the door opened.

 

*

 

“Dr. DeBrouchee.”

Mooshie raised an eyebrow. Drizzt had stubbornly insisted on the formal mode of address for most of his courses, but he’d certainly dropped it before graduation, and Mooshie, considering Drizzt a close friend, hadn’t minded (and had in fact been relieved that he’d stopped making every meet-up sound like a business meeting). “Stop calling me that. It’s Mooshie.”

“My dad’s here to inspect the house?”

“I’d guessed.” Mooshie turned to the left. “Mister Do’Urden?”

“Master Do’Urden, previously. Should I call you Mooshie, too?” Mister Do’Urden sounded about as tall as his son, with a deeper voice (still in the range of middling voices, for a human male) and exhibited a stronger version of the same harsh accent that he’d originally heard from Drizzt. He wasn’t sure what to make of the lack of humor with the question.

“Of course.”

(In Menzoberranzanite culture, this sort of casual intimacy was a sign of dominance, not trust - their root language, Undercommon, had no word for trust. Mooshie didn’t know about this, but anyway Zaknafien was already well into trying his hand at surface culture.)

“And this is your house?”

“Winter house. My uncle’s house, technically, but he’s off in a retirement someplace sunny. Lucky bastard. I kid. I’ll probably be up here until my bones freeze.”

There was a slightly baffled silence from Mister Do’Urden.

“Anyway, I’ll show him around,” Drizzt said.

“The kitchen has very nice acoustics, but the living room’s are pretty subpar,” Mooshie said drily.

 

*

 

from:  [ Montydebrouch@mail.northwindsu.com ](mailto:Montydebrouch@mail.northwindsu.com)

 

I got the feeling that your dad didn’t like my house. But you said that he still wants to rent. Is there something I should change before he arrives.

 

from:  [ drizzt@mail.northwindsu.com ](mailto:drizzt@mail.northwindsu.com)

 

Don’t worry about it. It’s a status thing, and my dad spent a lot more time stuck in the City of Spiders than I did. He’s used to a mansion, and I do not exaggerate here.

He’ll come to appreciate a different and better lifestyle. Probably.

Don’t try to preemptively fulfill his expectations, he’s still learning functional expectations from life.

 

from:  [ montydebrouch@mail.northwindsu.com ](mailto:montydebrouch@mail.northwindsu.com)

 

Huh. Is he going to be as restrained and polite about the inevitable culture shock as you were?

 

from:  [ drizzt@mail.northwindsu.com ](mailto:drizzt@mail.northwindsu.com)

 

Look, if he gives you any problems, please just call me.

 

*

 

Despite, apparently, having lived in a mansion, Mister Do’Urden didn’t bring much in the way of luggage. He even managed to bring everything in one the first trip, which was impressive considering the average stature of elves.

“I’m assigned the guest room?”

Mooshie shrugged. “You can take either room that you’d like. It’s just the master bedroom that I’m using.”

“Any ground rules?”

“Keep the house clean, don’t harass the owl, and don’t complain about the internet unless you’re willing to pay to upgrade it.”

“The owl?”

A disgruntled owl screech sounded from above one of the kitchen cabinets.

Zaknafien took a step back. “What’s its name?”

“Hooter.”

“Oh,” Zaknafien said slowly, audibly considering further commentary on the owl before deciding against it. “That sounds amenable.”

“Glad to hear it.”

 

*

 

And thus started a relatively pleasant of peaceful cohabitation (oh, it had its quirks, such as the introduction of strange incense, Mooshie becoming a math teacher, and the concrete establishment of boundaries which, really, Mooshie didn’t mind and had half predicted, considering his foreknowledge of The Do’Urden Situation) which was abruptly and unfairly interrupted by the Confectionary Incident.

**Author's Note:**

> And yes, I intend to write the Confectionary Incident, though maybe not immediately.


End file.
